


A Moment of Eternity

by LittleRaven



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Porn, Desperate Sex, F/M, Jealousy, Mandalore, Porn, Porn with Feelings, Possessive Sex, Siege of Mandalore, porn with character study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-12 13:03:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18447134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleRaven/pseuds/LittleRaven
Summary: Anakin wanted to forget. He needed her to forget too, most of all.





	A Moment of Eternity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [outruntheavalanche](https://archiveofourown.org/users/outruntheavalanche/gifts).



He could hear himself say her name, and her voice so cool, talking about Mandalore, Maul, another mission. The collected arrangement of her features; he dove past it, looking for the uncertainty in her eyes, in how she felt when he reached for her through the Force, pushing into her through their bond. 

Ahsoka let him, to his relief. Still, it wasn’t enough. It couldn’t be. She was there, but she wasn’t. At least she was giving him the opportunity to fix that. 

Anakin wanted to forget. To forget how she’d touched his hand to leave her Padawan beads, how she’d talked to Asajj Ventress and to Barriss when he’d asked her to talk to him, how she’d left over someone who betrayed her when he’d worked so hard to get her back. To keep her. He wanted to forget every person she’d been willing to talk to, to see, in the past year who wasn’t him. Every face and voice since she’d left him, every part of the wall of distance she’d built between them with her choice. He needed her to forget too, most of all.

He stuffed his ship with his men, half-remembering why she’d come to him. The reason she gave. It wasn’t enough. She had more. She would give him more. 

 

Quite a lot more, as Anakin had made sure once she’d let him be alone with her, in the cleared-out house she’d taken up while planning Maul’s defeat. He’d stripped her bare of the Mandalorian armor she’d come in, digging into her mouth with a kiss only broken by the need to pull off what was left of her clothes. He drew back to watch her, reaching out through their bond, gratified to find that like the Ahsoka he’d known, her feelings matched her expressions: flushed with surprise, curiosity, and something else besides. 

She wouldn’t be outdone, clearly; her hands tugged at his belt, and he gently drew them back off, trying to mollify her with another kiss. That earned him a bite to his lip.

Anakin smiled. He stroked her back and picked her up, carrying her to the nearest flat surface: a dining table. He spared enough of a thought to make sure it was clear of anything that could hurt her, before setting Ahsoka down and turning her over. 

Her surprise came out in a whimper—a new sound, stirring him up further—but she permitted him to guide her onto her stomach, stretched out before him, waiting. 

He would go where he was needed. Anakin slipped his still-gloved left hand between her thighs, her lips, stroking up. She bucked, trying to grind into his fingers, press them between the metal and her warm flesh. 

He took them away. Ahsoka groaned and Anakin, delighted in her loss of control, patted her buttocks. As much as he liked watching, he liked feeling more. Keeping her thighs spread, still clothed himself though it was hard, he climbed atop her and ground against her cheeks. His hand slid back under her, up a breast; he tugged the nipple. Bending down, pressed against her back, pressing her between his weight and his flesh hand as if it would keep her from leaving again, he pulled her lek aside with his other hand and brought his mouth to her neck.

She wasn’t the only one with teeth; he could bite too. He could nibble anyway, and he set about proving it, taking his time as he moved over the side of it, tongue flicking out between her lek and her skin where his teeth couldn't reach. She cried out, just a little squeak—Anakin liked the high pitch of it—turning so her lek and then her cheek rubbed against his nose. He brushed his lips lightly over the stripe on her skin. His tongue slid out over it, veering off to taste the edge of her mouth, slightly parted. Sweet. So sweet under him. 

Anakin’s grip tightened on her breast, giving it a squeeze. He kissed the edge of her mouth. After a moment, he let her turn over beneath him for a fuller kiss, for her to take his tongue in her mouth and scratch it with the tips of her fangs; he bit her back, a sharp nip at the center of her bottom lip. She tried to get some friction against his hips, tempt him to move it along by rubbing her breasts against him. He pulled back to watch them bounce with her wriggling, before rewarding her with the return of his hand between her thighs, providing himself with more of a show in her pleasure. Then he pushed himself against her cunt. It was torture not to fill her, but he distracted himself with the sight of her breasts, still moving to the beat of her panting. He lowered his head to lick at a nipple, compelled to take it in and suck. Moving slowly, no longer to extend her vulnerability but to experience every moment of it, trying to sear her into his mind, he lingered over her chest with his mouth, stripping the glove off his flesh hand so his fingers could join in. His metal hand, between her shoulder blades—so often bare and out of reach, save for the comfort and care he would never betray her by pressing, not if he could help it—pushed her up against his touch. His hips kept Ahsoka pinned throughout her twisting. 

He kissed between her breasts, open-mouthed. His hands stroked her sides. Bringing his head back up, he watched her watch him stroke down to her hips, before undoing his belt; he followed her tongue out past a fang and peeking between her open lips. After doing some wriggling himself under her gaze, he got his clothes down just enough to resume position kneeling astride her. He pressed down on her, grinding a final time—her frustrated moan was exquisite—and slid in, bringing his hands back to her, holding her buttocks, squeezing. He let himself moan at last, let her hear it as he held her. He pulled out, resumed thrusting, slow and intent. Ahsoka filled his vision: her half-open eyes, her mouth still open; he bent to kiss it again, brief but deep, bringing up his human hand to stroke the side of her face, before moving it to where it belonged, rubbing her cunt as he filled her, warm and steady in her wetness. There was nothing but her, and him, centered in the Force by the tightness of her around him, the wetness under his insistent fingers, the look on her face making him dizzy. She took him in with that look as much as she did with her body. She was taking him now, her movements growing more erratic under his hands, and Anakin was swept along with her, face buried in her neck, no thought but joy pooling between them. 

Not caring that they were still on the table, Anakin stayed with Ahsoka, nuzzling between her throat and her lek. He kissed her neck again, and her lek, her chin, her cheek, her mouth happy to meet his. He wanted to cover her in kisses, drape himself around her for safekeeping. He thrilled to her allowing it. 

He was not giving her up again. Anakin wasn’t sure how, but he wouldn’t let her get that distant; and he thought—face resting against hers, a leg and arm thrown around her body, staying close, half atop her—that she would agree. A little fear of another thought was quelled, brushed away. Ahsoka wouldn’t want to leave him anymore. She wanted him in her life. She’d let him in. He’d just needed to let her know it didn’t matter what choice she made. She could always come back. 

Whatever happened next, he didn’t intend to let this be their last encounter. With that, he let her breathing lull him to sleep. Just a little moment before they were interrupted. It was what they had for now. He would make sure they didn’t waste it.


End file.
